#that's way more than i've gotten in the past
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Dear people over America. I woke up to this current political news which is devastating to say the least to minorities, women and the trans community on the other side of the globe. I wanted to do what little I can to help and ease your minds.
I'm a psychic. I have been doing divination (oracle readings) for 25 years. I've got a high success rate and my reviews on my store are 5/5 (you can see this for yourself). I asked the cards for clarification for all this; why is HE the president now, and how does the nearby future look for women and trans communities.
Please note that these are collective readings of the topic and might not correlate with your own personal experiences or how things are in your home state! So take only what resonates with you and ignore the rest. (If you wish to have a personal reading, that is possible; in that case, click here)
Why Trump is the president?
This result didn't surprise me because for the past 3 years I have heard many American people, who have had a near-death experience (NDE) to say that if they have gotten a view of America's future, Trump has always appeared as being elected for the 2nd time - but only for the 2nd time.
The Spirit tells me that Trump's personal lesson is to learn to see other people's points of views. That's why he chose such a position in society, where he would need to consider many different people from different backgrounds and life situations. He needs to understand how his actions affect others.
However, he is miserably failing with this personal lesson (unless something happens and he somehow completes it now in the next 4 years). Instead of going for harmony and seeing everyone's point of view, his priority is Power. With a capital P. That's what he desires, that's what he wants (MAGA movement is based on this; power back to America, America needs to be a powerful, unyielding boxer in the global ring - only a win matters).
I asked why he wishes for this Power and it's simply because of the power's sake. He loves to be in control. He loves to feel powerful. You all are asked, as much as possible, to detach from this drama he is causing because it indeed seems like he is close to a cult leader and loves to bask in this power. He loves the idea that he can command nukes and one of the most powerful countries in the world. To get this, he is ready to cause any kind of a shitstorm - after all, he has not learned to consider others, except maybe only his own family members.
This correlates with his views of an autonomic power, where he gets all the power and can be a dictator. There's no one more powerful person alive in the world than a dictator. Anyone following him is likely learning this same lesson of empathy and understanding, and failing in it. They all want to be the King of the Hill and by following someone who already is, makes them feel like they are, too. This is all drama for dramas sake because it makes them feel more powerful.
TL;DR: Trump's life lesson is to learn to respect and honor everyone despite their backgrounds and views. What a better way to do that as a president of a nation with so many nationalities and stories of people in it. But so far he has failed miserably in this lesson and has chosen blind worship of power instead. Stirring drama is his tactic to gain more power and followers. Detach from his and his followers' drama as much as you can; block, ignore, move on. His reign will eventually come to an end.
Future for Women in The US?
A toxic masculine energy wishes to control women of America and this is not related to any single individual. The rise of misogyny is real and tangible, and women are part of this "other party" the power hungry men do not want to contemplate. It's His way or No Way at all.
This will make women turn more and more away from men, which HOPEFULLY make these men see that in order to actually have a woman and a family they so much yearn to have is to love women. Not to hate them as they now do. Not to see them as assets or items or rewards of a job well done of being a man. More and more women will choose not to have kids, choose not to date or get married, and they will choose even more carefully men who are on their side, walking next to them as a unit.
In a way or another, women WILL fight and take their power back. Peace will not be an option. If this fighting can't be done visibly, it will be done in secrecy; helping other women out, warning them of bad men and risks, aiding others to better safety and to a better life. Mind you that this also covers trans women; there are trans women and trans allies in cis women who will be willing to help. Women will turn towards one another. Men who follow this old paradigm of controlling women will be met with women's bare teeth but other women will be met with peace. I don't see anything particularly related to women who follow misogyny but I imagine with this much mental energy here, women will not abandon them but educate them. It is possible some of these women, who support this kind of regime, will later change their minds when they see how it negatively affects them, their parents, sisters, aunts, friends, cousins, coworkers etc. Some women will die in order to wake others up.
Women will turn their nurturing energies - the one this regime wants to turn towards men and babies - towards themselves. Artistic expression and expressing their feelings through any form of art will be significant. Pay attention to what kind of art women do now - it's going to be directly reflected in what's going on now. Women seem to also be looking more after their bodies, keeping themselves safe. This low level energy of control and forcing women is echoes of the past and women of America, collectively and mainly, wish not to partake in it any longer.
When it comes to men, these men who have thought that Trump will deliver them a woman to look after them and have their babies will see that it's not the case. And, if it is, the marriage is not happy and many women will fight like a trapped wild cat, scratching the eyes out of any of the people who want to trap them. This will be genuinely boggling to them and might make them angrier but their lessons are to understand what human rights are and what it means to respect others as your equal.
TL;DR: Women will turn away from misogyny and forced motherhood more and more, turning their attention and care towards themselves and other women (trans included) and leaving misogyny men angry because they have not learned to love women (not your job to teach them this, sisters!). Artistic expressions in all forms among women will be very high as it will be a way to express and deal with these current energies. Women will be even more pickier with the men they date and get married with, or even interact overall with - as they should. Anyone who wants to rip you off from your human rights is not your ally or a good partner. This will not be a shocker to anyone else but the men who believe in misogyny, as they will not get wives or girlfriends any easier - it only gets harder.
Future for Trans People in the US?
Trans people in the USA (not every state, mind you) need to "erase" their existence. Like I saw someone saying here; if you know a trans person in the USA now, no, you don't. True identities will be hidden for the safety's sake and people will flock more into underground, smaller communities. Those communities will continue to exist and support one another. This is not a total erasure but it's erasure in a way that it is better to choose carefully who really knows your true identity and who are the people to whom you are performing the identity of your physical body. So trans men will pretend to continue to be women on the outside, trans women will pretend to continue to be men on the outside but in their own safe spaces and supportive communities, they can be who they truly are.
Now, trans communities and rights will not be erased. There can be a momentary setback and time when trans people have to carefully hide their identities for their own sake but it will not be permanent. Trans people, like women's collective, WILL FIGHT. Trans people will NOT allow themselves and their fellow trans people to be erased. The time when "transpeople didn't exist because this is woke idealism", as red-wing misogyny says, WILL NOT return. People who wish for these times to come back have fallen from the evolution of humanity. Trans people will not stop existing. They will fight for their rights till the end of the world. Liberation seems to be near and this looks, in America, to be the final dark hour before the new dawn. Hang in there!
The Spirit and the cards promise that trans people will get their freedom. There's no returning back to the time when their existence was forbidden. There's a flow of prosperity and lots of freedom in the future cards so any trans person there reading this - DO NOT GIVE UP. This is temporary. This will pass. You need to play with these nasty rules for a little while but it will pass.
There's a promise of balance in work and home life, so acceptance of trans people both in private areas of their life (home, friends, communities, online blogs etc.) as well as in public (school, work, society, hospitals, other people). That kind of a future is coming, also as we move more into the Era of Aquarius, which supports human rights, different gender and sexual identities without judgment, liberation of gender and sexuality and thus the human expression itself.
TL;DR: Trans people need to lay low for now and hide their true identities for their own safety. If you know a trans person, no, you do not. They will find the support they need in their own communities but trans people will not be erased. Trans people WILL fight and there is going to be a time in the future when they can openly (once again) be who they truly are, both at home and outside home. Flow of prosperity and freedom is in the cards as a promise of the future and these energies are massive. This is only the old paradigm's final efforts to stay alive as it croaks and is forgotten. American humanity will evolve to respect trans people's human rights, too.
EVERYONE SCARED IN THE USA, KEEP GOING! This is only a temporary moment of night.
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I keep seeing posts comparing this to 2004 or other past election losses and how this feels the same or similar to those past times.
As another Old who voted in 2004 (and I missed voting in 2000 by a month and was furious about it) I really can't even put into words how vehemently I disagree.
In 2008, I remember very earnestly sitting down with some friends and saying that if somehow McCain beat Obama, I'd have to join the fucking revolution, because I couldn't believe that this country would elect a Republican AGAIN after the previous 8 years of bullshit. I look back now and think how incredibly naive I was, but I also look back now and think, damn, why aren't I 25 NOW? I can't join the revolution now, I'm 41 and I own a house and have two young children and one old parent depending on me.
Because honestly, truly, as someone who has been studying American history since I was 7, as a Civil War buff with expertise on the years before the Civil War, as someone who has at least some memories of every election since 1988... guys, this isn't the same as 2004. I was furious then. Swift Boat bullshit I swear to fucking dog. And I was and still am fairly convinced that the 2000 election was deliberately stolen. But also I still had every reason then to believe in the rule of law.
In 2004, I still believed term limits would be respected.
In 2004, I still believed a person who wasn't elected would demure gracefully to the winner.
In 2004, I still trusted the courts.
In 2004, I still believed that we'd made progress on bigotry.
I could go on, and to be clear, my point isn't "I thought these institutions were ~good~" in literally any objective sense. Y'all are cynical but my generation was raised by, surrounded by, Vietnam vets and trust me, there was no way to be a kid, seeing what the 70s did to this country, and not come out as cynical and furious as the best of um. (My grandfather was a World War 2 vet, as were his close friends. My father and both his brothers are Vietnam vets, tho my dad didn't go overseas.) But I did believe that even corrupt institutions, even broken racist systems, even fucking Republicans, would follow basic norms of democracy. They said they believed in the constitution and I believed them. I believed that, like Nixon, truly getting caught doing something insane would at least force a mea culpa and turn public opinion. I believed...
Well, I guess it doesn't matter.
Because I no longer believe any of that.
I have watched the guard rails disappear over my lifetime. I have watched the party who once spent 2 years pursuing a guy over a BJ in the oval office elect a convicted rapist. I have watched and at times I've participated and I've voted and I've organized and I've protested and I've read the news more days than not and I've lived and I've grown and I've learned.
I have been an adult, legally, for almost 24 years now.
Guys... there are no norms remaining on the far right. The guard rails are gone. The Fascists control the White House, the senate, the Supreme Court, and things aren't looking promising for the House.
The bus has no brakes anymore. They think they have a mandate - and I can't blame them, as horrifying as this mandate is, because if things had gone the other way and Harris had gotten these results I'd also think it was a mandate.
Please sit with what this means: Trump and the Republican party said, "hand us the reins and we'll make everyone you hate hurt," and more than half the people who bothered to vote said "sure buddy, here goes." We don't have a usurper this time. This is the country that the majority of Americans said they wanted. Whether they come to regret that or not, they saw open Fascism and went "oh yes, count me in." And it wasn't because of the electoral college this time. It was because this country is so bigoted and misogynistic that they'd rather have this than a woman of color in the office.
I'm sick of "well she didn't run a good campaign." (Lie.) I'm sick of, "well we didn't get a primary." (Who cares?) I'm *extremely* sick of "well, Palestine." (Yes! Democrats actions have made the suffering there so much worse! It fucking sucks! You know what's about to suck so much worse?)
15 million people who showed up for Joe Biden couldn't be fussed to place a vote for Kamala Harris. Whatever their reason for not voting, we all knew the outcome if she lost. And seeing open fascism didn't fire them up enough to make the effort, and that's fucking pathetic. The consequences of the worst happening mattered so little to them that they couldn't be fucking bothered to make the minimum effort to stop it, and now millions of people will suffer as a result.
Because here we are: the huge swathe of the country who wanted a strongman now have one.
Look, I don't know what happens next. But I do know, and remember keenly: after 2016, Trump did, or at least tried to do, most of the things he said he'd do. When he was stopped, it was often because of career government employees: judges, bureaucrats, etc. And this time, he's said he's going to purge those people. I don't know if he'll succeed, but I certainly believe he'll try.
This is not 2004 again.
This is 2024. The Republicans have ripped the mask to shreds, shredded apart the book of political norms, and empowered hate, and they've been handed a governmental mandate for stamped "have at with our blessing!" in exchange.
And now they'll use that mandate to make everyone they hate suffer: people of color, queer people, trans people, immigrants, non-Christians.
Don't assume the worst can't happen. I am a Jew, and I have a photo album full of black and white photos of dead people that constantly reminds me: the worst has happened and it can happen again.
Do not despair. Despair is enervating. Be furious. As we should be. These douche bags are repulsive. Be prepared to fight. Be prepared to flee. Be prepared to defend. Don't assume you simply can't do something. There's always something to do, and even the smallest act of defiance can help. There's never any knowing until after which acts of resistance will end up galvanizing the good and just out of their apathy. But that apathy is the enemy.
Because none of this is normal. None of this is "just like when..." Please stop saying it is.
And before anyone screams "privilege" at me, yes, I am in many ways. I'm white. I have access to some generational money even tho my own family lives paycheck to paycheck - we won't be rich but have enough of a support network to be comfortable. I live in a blue area of a blue state. But I'm also a woman (legally speaking, at least) married to another woman - since before Oberkfell, and yes I remember exactly what steps we had planned any time we wanted to leave our state. My wife has physical disabilities. We have two children. Both are biracial (half black). One is trans. We are caring for an elderly parent. I am Jewish and as my kids' birth parent, so are they. I own a publishing company that publishes the exact kinds of queer and kinky lit these people intend to ban. We tick so many boxes of what these people hate.
I know ya'll are scared. Trust me, I'm terrified. But fear is paralyzing. And that won't help. Whatever happens, don't lie down and take this shit.
When Gore lost I was one month shy of my 18th birthday and already in college. I have been fighting my entire adult life, and I'm exhausted. I'm much less able to fight now, much more tied down with responsibilities. But the fight isn't over. I'm checking our passports. I'm packing a go bag. I've convinced one vulnerable friend to move here and I have another who wants to and we're figuring out how to make that happen. I'm protecting who I can, starting with putting on my mask first. I don't know what will happen but if in the end all I can do is uproot my entire life to protect my children then I am preparing to do so. I can at least save them if no one else.
None of this is normal.
And I'm not sure, after Trump's in office, that anything will ever be normal again in the US. At least not the old normal. And there are ways that's a good thing, so many ways that the old normal sucked for so many people, and I'm optimistic that there's a bright future ahead, but man it looks far away right now. I don't want to go back to the old normal, and I want to be part of establishing a kinder, more just, more equal new normal, but we're a long way from there.
Whatever happens, we must endure. We must survive. We must support each other. We must find our allies and be prepared to compromise with them. Don't try to save everyone. You'll fail. Help even one person and you can change the world. Everyone things they can't do everything and so do nothing. That's insane. Do a single thing and it will be better than nothing. One phone call. One letter. One act of defiance. Very few people get the opportunity to grand gestures that matter, and the rest of us will die waiting for that moment. But the secret is that what makes those moments - the time when one person is in the right place at the right time for their action to matter - is built on millions of small moments by millions of people doing what little they can to make things slightly better. Think of every iconic photograph of a Sole Resistor you know of and think about every single tiny thing that had to happen for that moment to occur. Most of us will never me that one person, but that one person is a myth anyway. Countless tiny unseen moments create those myths. Doing literally anything is better than doing nothing.
And tooth and nail, quietly and loudly, in our homes and our towns and cities, during protests or when they come for our neighbors, we must fight.
#unforth rambles#politics#uspol#i probably shouldnt post this#and it probably wont get traction even though i am#but stop telling people that the normal methods of hunkering diwn and waiting for a 2026 blue wave will help#stop telling people this is just like something before#its not its not its not its so fucking not stop it
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On our last night spent visiting the small lake town that my mother grew up in, we went out to watch for shooting stars that were in the forecast. While we did see several shooting stars, we were also amazed to see any unexpected Aurora Borealis. The first four pictures I share here were long-exposure photos, though the last one shows a terrible approximation of what we saw with the naked eye. Though it was far less vibrant and intense than it looks in the long-exposures, what was plainly visible was still pretty breathtaking. It felt like a beautiful sendoff from this ancestral land that I had finally gotten the chance to meet.
The next day, however, I had one even more surprising sendoff in store. Before heading to the airport to fly home, we decided to take one last row on the lake my mother grew up on as a child, using the rowboat of a family friend. As we made our way back to the dock, I was a little gobsmacked to spot a Hagstone floating in the waterâliterally strung on a reed like a bead on thread, and sitting atop the water's surface. As we went past it, I managed to reach out and slip the Hagstone off its reed, like a mystical prize This is, without a doubt, one of the most significant hagstones I've ever been granted, and an almost painfully direct embrace of this Genius Loci.
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istg am i famous now or smth
over 100 notes on my stychu cotl comic dubs
do i do more??? do i do audiobooks of cotl fanfiction???
#cult of the lamb#cotl#voice acting#how the hell#did i get popular#i know it's only like 100 notes but still#that's way more than i've gotten in the past#jesus#love ya'll <3#/platonic
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just read the new hatchling skin rules and am having Some Type Of Initial Emotional Reaction and am now writing down said Initial Emotional Reaction uncensored as i currently Strongly Feel A Type Of Way and Require Venting. i cannot word this more politely. i do not have the capability to render this rage into polite borderline corporate-speak for the sake of the damn rules that act like anything short of apologizing for being alive to make up for having even the most constructive understanding friendly criticism or even personal mild non-critical dislike of something like a color or a breed is tantamount to personal targeted hatemail. i cannot wait until i cool into calm bitterness later because if i think about this enough to write about it again i will just go right back to being furious and the fact that everyone ielse who's complaining is focusing entirely on the lolita fashion thing and not on in my opinion the far more significant and offensive part is pissing me off even more. extremely angry unedited ranting ahead
fr having it's own "female presenting nipples" moment right now, not that i'm particularly surprised, they've been a prime example of "conservative protestantism in a lefty-language veneer" for a long while now.
"don't adultify" is such a fucking vague and easily selectively interpreted rule, not to mention insulting for a number of reasons,
but putting that part aside the whole idea of "nothing that suggests that the dragon is an adult in a young body" is. look, i'm not exactly fond of the "adult who looks like an anime schoolgirl" trope myself, but i fail to see how in the absolute FUCK having it be canon in-universe that it is both possible and legal for someone to be forced to stay as a child permanently, is somehow LESS creepy than just saying eternal youth dragons have dwarfism. also, fuck you to anyone with dwarfism apparently i guess?
and "no zombie baby dragons" is just stupid. even fucking minecraft has baby zombies, and microsoft has steadily butchered that game into one of the most t for toddler babymode things on earth this side of cocomelon.
and "no scars on hatchlings" so fuck you to any kids with scars too apparently, even though that's way more common than anyone seems to realize. you hear that, kids? if you're under 18 and have scars your very existence is too obscene for public view. 13+ year olds will be irreparably traumatized if they have to know you exist at all! fuck you disabled kids and fuck you amputee kids and fuck you any kids that have suffered anything ever at all for not appearing as a perfect unspoiled image of conservative christian child-doll innocent purity. flight rising staff says your body and existence is inherently too nsfw to even be acknowledged as existing much less visually seen. everyone knows REAL children don't get damaged at all, and if they do then they're too horrifying and defective at their job of Being A Child Properly to exist in public spaces! how dare ugly things that might make us uncomfortable with their existence by contradicting out ideals about aesthetic moral purity be allowed where good respectable normal people can see them!
i don't say any of these words lightly, and i'm very much not the type to go around calling people whatever-ists and in fact find that kind of thing extremely annoying, useless, reductive, and more or less only ever see it used as a blunt cudgel to shame people into line so they don't question you, and have historically found it especially annoying when people pull out the accusations-of-ism card on fr staff over things that are far more likely just completely understandable (if dubiously competent) issues of certain things simply not occurring to someone on code and design level due to lack of sufficient exposure to the idea, and have always been of the belief of giving them the benefit of doubt (even if often that just means i think they either most likely made an understandable mistake that i would likely also make, or, when i'm feeling less kind, that they're simply not particularly competent rather than actively hostile) so understand how much it means coming from me when i say- flight rising staff, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you, you ableist batch of pricks, so far up your own asses with your performative veneer of vaguely lefty-flavored language that you don't realize how fundamentally extremely conservative all of your actual beliefs underlying them are. for every update you make that i approve of there's another that does twice as much damage as the good update fixed (and i'm starting to wonder if you maybe know what you're doing with that too-always batching the fucked up shit on the tail end of some big thing you know people will be excited about, always hiding these controversial moderation changes under something shiny and new, to the point that now i dread any new good update that genuinely seems a step in the right direction and/or is something we've been wanting for awhile because i'm just constantly expecting the knife hidden behind the footnotes afterwards, the fucking "ban tiktok/gay marriage/strip rights from this population/end net neutrality/whatever/ect" clause stapled onto the end of a bill about something entirely unrelated functionally holding a change people want hostage until they allow the fucked up part through. i've been here most of the site's 10+ years and i've seen this sort of thing happen far, far too often.) and every year the shit that gets pulled on the management and moderation end of things makes me more and more almost glad i've never had an income to spend on this, and the fact that apparently the moderation behind every single other petsite in existence is somehow significantly worse fucking astounds me. the only reason i stay around here is because It's Free Dragon Pictures, because it's literally the only actually good petsite game i've ever played and not gotten sick of within a week or so (and really the only good low-energy game i've ever played in general, which i'm increasingly convinced is in spite of it's management), and because somehow, despite all of this shit, i still genuinely love the game itself, because unfortunately by some accident of creation it seems they apparently stumbled purely by coincidence into making an actually good game idea no one else quite has. and after all the fuckery that gets constantly pulled, i refuse to believe the game being good is anything other than, much like many of the of the incidents i think they're unfairly accused of malice and -ism over, an accident.
Disabled children too obscene to fucking exist. fuck you. good to know half the child population's existence requires a trigger warning to even be allowed to be acknowledged as existing to you. good to know if the heart surgery i had when i was 11 had left any visible external scars i would be considered inherently too obscene to exist to you. good to know if the overhealed and benignly potentially cancerous scar on my back from whatever actually happened when i was a toddler (i don't trust either of my parents to ever be accurate about something like that) was in a more visible spot you would demand i have a trigger warning to post selfies online. good to know if any of the shit that's broken me emotionally left visible physical marks you would think it was good and right for me to be forcibly hidden from good normal people's view and considered too taboo for even the slightest discussion without hiding it with makeup and lies, just so i don't make good, lucky, undamaged, normal people uncomfortable, god fucking forbid. should we hide the gays too, since they also make so many people uncomfy? i imagine it won't be long before disabled adults are too obscene for your polite societytm sensibilities too. i've had the feeling for a long time that amputee and disabled skins were living on borrowed time with your rules, kept technically not explicitly dissalowed where all other forms of injury and ""body horror"" are banned simply out of fear of the backlash it would cause to include them, and well. the doomsday clock on that one just got a little bit closer to midnight, huh?
the only reason i wasn't a (physically, visibly, externally) scarred kid was pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you weren't a physically scarred kid too is pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you're not some type of disfigured or ugly or amputated or visibly injured or whatnot is pure sheer fucking luck. you're lucky. nothing more. if having to contend with that fact-the fact of how easily it could have gone a different way and there is nothing they would be able to do about it- makes good normal tm people uncomfortable, then well, get the fuck used to it, other people children very much fucking included don't exist to cater to the aesthetic sensibilities of a lucky perfect few. the only thing that separates you from the damaged ones you find too obscene is a bad day and an unlucky hand. and one day, even if you were lucky enough to escape being damaged when you were young, you and i will both be just like them too.
more festival skin winners slots is good. elemental swords sound fun.
#flight rising#how do i always and only end up in fandoms where either the fans or the creators or the fans and the creators#are downright insufferable crypto-conservative nutjobs of the type who tend to think justifying suicide baiting is ever okay#i'm sure i'll cool down to a more calm bitterness on this eventually but for right now i've just read the post and my initial reaction#is still Burning Hot#you have touched upon a trigger subject and I Am Very Angry#the stupid school dress code-ass clothing rules is dumb but wouldn't have gotten much out of me other than an eye roll on it's own#but no scars? no sign of past injury? no implication of disability? no uggos basically?#everyone else who is angry is focusing on the dumb dress code rules when this bullshit is right fucking there#the experience of being an fr player all these years has been a slow building of papercut after papercut#with everyone telling you it's not that bad#until you're the unreasonable one for being so angry over 'just a papercut'#and you have no good way to tell them that it's been 'just a papercut' over and over and over again for *years*#and you would very much like if the chill thing that's supposed to be a low-investment de-stressor would STOP GIVING YOU PAPERCUTS#i don't know how much i can give the benefit of doubt anymore
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Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it đ«Ą
So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.
At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.
Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.
I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.
So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.
If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.
#spotatalk#i'm just gonna drop this in the queue I guess?#but I'm writing this on the last day of june so....#whenever this rolls around will be a jumpscare abd a half I guess?#I think honestly I coukd do a full breakdown of the Crew and why they're all expressions of me but like#quick summary is#Reset: Wants approval from people but mostly clings to the past. is afraid of losing his brother and acts on it to bring him back. i#<- I lack that conviction to do whatever you have to to get your way. i worry my brother and I have a weird gap between us we wont repair#Orchid: Uhhh woman. lots of pressure that she had at one time that's now no being pressed but she still tries to live up to it also.#<- I don't like the pressure of being a woman. also gifted-kid who cannot move past the pressures imposed to be 'perfect' and it's screwed#Stereo: Pulled into a situation he doesn't want to be in initially. it's bad for him but he likes the people so he decides to stay#<- I see the good in people. even when they hurt others around me. I was a bystander often and should've left the situations. paralelling.#Monochrome: Afraid. No purpose or preperation in life. soneone offers to guide him and he takes that offer because it's better than home.#<- Kinda self-explanitory but I've got little direction and feel lost a lot of the time. If I'm given a path I usually walk it no hesitation#and... for fun let's do some others!#Haphazard: Cleaning up after others since childhood. he's never really gotten a break and sees any sort of mess as an enemy#-> He's fixing rifts in universes I gotta patch relationships. there's so much conflict and I'm always so overwhelmed by it#Lost: He's got amnesia. no clue where he is. where he's from. who you are. who he is. he'll know when he gets there. he's sure.#-> I've been hsving minor issues with my memory for years. i coukd be forgetful but sometimes it just escapes me and that's spooky#Teddy: Isolated in her universe for years. she self-mutilated until she liked herself. when she finally met people she compulsively lied#-> Much more extreme version of how isolated I sonetines feel. hobbies can't replace human interaction but it's hard#oh and Ichor: God who loves mortals but cannot seem to find ones who will prove hin right for his trust and care#<- I've got a big heart. i express it often but the sentinent is scoffed off a lot. I get beat down about it and just keep moving forward#Pretender: Knows who he is. however the world doesn't like it much so he acts how they expect him to or isolates away#<- I still present femme when I'm nb/agender. i bend and break to people's perception of me. if I can't solve something I run.#okay I feel more insane than when ai started but these stupid skeletons have helped me through so many mental health problems it's only a#little bit funny đ
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What do you think happened to Christa?
Oh, I know what happened to Christa.
The aliens got to her first, but unlike Luke, they didn't make a clone of her. She wasn't a good candidate, she didn't have a big group to infiltrate and the aliens didn't make the Clementine connection until they already had Luke.
It's really a shame. I hope she and Luke were able to eventually escape back to earth.
I know there are new people to the tumblr twdg fandom here and they must be super confused so here's some context, it's an inside joke haha
#asks#twdg christa#twdg luke#this is half a joke#i stand by my s2 conspiracy theory okay#also i've gotten this question so many times in the past that i'm just kinda like 'we'll never know and does it really matter?'#either those guys killed her or she got away and survived... or the aliens got to her and she and luke are still in space#honestly where's that comic skybound? the walking dead in space: a christa and luke story#why didn't you give tillie that prompt? i know she can write a space story because she wrote 'on a sunbeam' and it's great#that would've been way more fun than the clementine comics i'm just saying we all could've had fun with that
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You don't have to respond to this if you don't want to, I know it will start unneeded drama but I just found it soooo interesting that, since the transphobic blog lets you see their likes, most of their likes are TWC related. And it's not like that fandom is notorious for being a toxic hellspace, no sir.
to be frank it's not just twc, the IF space as a whole is pretty notorious for being toxic at this point. whether you're on tumblr or reddit or the forums, you're going to find these kinds of people lurking around.
that was why i did post that person's username because i could see them interacting with various other authors, and it's best to just block them before they send you something stupid, too.
just like any large online community there are going to be a lot of trolls trying to get attention by sending inflammatory messages or leaving cruel comments wherever they can; i've been getting that kind of stuff sent to me or left in reviews or comments for years now. and currently losers online are having a fucking field day with everything that's going on right now - racism, islamophobia, antisemitism, transphobia, even gore, i've gotten it all in my inbox over the last few months and i've seen others get even worse. these people are pathetic and not worth your time. i've gotten better at not responding to stuff like that, but it is hard to resist that instinctive anger, and that's exactly why they do it & exactly why you see it in every single fandom/online space.
all of that to say, just ignore and block them and you'll have a far better time online than if you constantly try to argue or reason with them because they don't care, their only goal is to make you miserable. even if you think you have some epic clapback, it's not worth it, you're still giving them the attention they clearly desperately want and potentially exposing others to harmful rhetoric. just block 'em, babey!
#it's also why i didn't bother actually responding to that person's message cus there was no reason to share it#just for them to get some weirdo satisfaction from it#i really try to only respond if i feel like it's something i can properly address in a meaningful way#but you can tell when asks are just meant to upset you and you should just block and delete those#and i dont care about twc but i dont think its helpful to blame one single group here#when overall the fandom space within IF and elsewhere is always kinda rancid#i cannot stress enough to just block people. i've gotten way more liberal about it over the years#there's no reason for you to have to interact with every single person just cus you're in the same space#even as an author#extracting myself from certain circles has helped me way more than trying to appease an audience that hates me#anyways it's been upsetting this past few months to see the depravity of some people that are just reveling in all of this#that's why i kinda wanted to respond to this. it's bleak out here but you'll always have the block button and the knowledge#that despite it all you aren't someone who wasted their time harassing random strangers on the internet!#ask#anonymous
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as a bona fide vaxleth lover i am more confused than ever about how they are portrayed on the animated series i'm not gonna lie đ
#not that different is bad like it doesn't affect or 'ruin' the actual source material#i just legitimately do not understand some of their choices here#there's stuff i really like ofc but u know. i've written multiple long analyses about conflict in their relationship#and in previous seasons it seemed to me like they were just smoothing out those sharp edges which bummed me out ngl#(for one there was a line at the end of s1 where kiki directly contradicted her campaign self in favor of No Conflict that i was feeling#unsatisfied with. and s2 didn't contend with rq as a sticking point for keyleth really at all)#and like to be honest my distaste for that is biased by like fandom drama of years past and people shitting on them for that exact stuff#so for me it kinda felt like an updated and palatable version that appealed to the group of people that made me feel bad for liking them#which is again like a strong personal bias lol but u know it also is just. a really important story to me that i love#but this season it's like they went no no. they do actually need to fight that was a big thing. hmmmm what about#AH YES. let's reverse their povs about their relationship completely.#have not finished ep3 yet but 10 min in i'm just like HUH?#again this doesn't rly matter and the show remains an enjoyable adaptation it's just truly bizzare to me đ how did this choice get made#it speaks#lovm spoilers#sorry I'm not done yet actually because the specific conflict about happiness in the present being or not being worth sorrow later#is the VERY CORE OF BOTH OF THOSE CHARACTERS and to switch which one feels which is way more than weird for the romance it's weird for like#what each of their whole individual deal is. that's why i'm so ??????????????#gah. i truly don't want to complain too badly#(and tbh the eps simply don't have enough runtime for vax to be as completely-falling-apart as he actually was and the role of#depression and trauma and self-loathing in that vs like. a more easily telegraphed supernatural boogeyman#-which if they slowed the pace down more might fit in but the scale of the story is so grand that they can't so like i begrudingly get it.#but still absolutely wild for the solution to be: do away with their actual arguments about divinity or keyleth's insecurity about#outliving all of vox machina. oh btw we are giving the vision she had of that to vax as a gift from rq or whatever#so he can be inscure about it instead. because he's fate touched or smthn. and that's too abstract for us to explore here so let's just#give him ominous visions.)#the more i have typed the saltier i have gotten i'm sorry it's just WILD TO MEEEE
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ă
€perhaps unsurprisingly, byan doesn't like the holidays â christmas in particular, as it's the most prominent and unavoidable one, and the one they have more experiences with. not growing up consistently celebrating the holiday past the age of four, they don't have any real positive attachment to it, and having it shoved so violently in their face each year, being surrounded by kids in school who are always so excited about it... it's always felt quite alienating. it's a very lonely time of year when everyone and everything around you is going on and on about family and you haven't got one.
although most years the only thing they've had to look forward to is the christmas dinner that the group homes they've been in have tried to provide, they have had a few experiences of what a more traditional celebration is like through foster homes they were living in during that time of year. the first one, when they were five, was... actually pretty okay. it was just them and their foster family, and they still remember having fun playing board games and watching movies, and how good the food at dinner was. they even got a couple of gifts from their foster parents. ...it was only the second christmas that they weren't celebrating with their first family, and they remember crying when those gifts were handed to them. another was when they were ten, with a foster family they hadn't been with for more than a few months. there was a lot of extended family in the house, none of whom they knew, and it was an incredibly overwhelming few days, during which they felt very much out of place. they didn't feel like they belonged and ended up spending most of their time hiding in the bedrooms to avoid the awkward conversations people would try to start with them so they didn't feel so left out. at one point, they remember sneaking out to go buy themself a hot chocolate with a bit of money they stole out of their foster brother's piggy bank to cheer themself up and to have a bit of quiet. no one noticed they were gone, and they weren't sure whether they were glad or disappointed.
at best, the holidays are an annoying time of year highlighted only by the two week break they get from school, and at worst, it's a reminder of all the things they've never had or the things that have been torn from them. even the positive memories they have have been soured by the way the kindness and the families didn't last, making it near impossible to look back on any of it fondly.
#the adoptive family they were with for their first four years did celebrate but they don't really remember much if anything from that time#so we're not counting those. ...outside of the way it upset them on that fifth year anyway.#i've had byan for 3 and a half years now and somehow this is the first year i've actually sat down & thought about them and the holidays#it's a very messy and unpleasant history. i know; who could have seen that coming? who could have possibly expected??#they've had a couple other holiday experiences with foster families but these two are the ones that stand out the most to them#they're the experiences that stuck because of the emotional impacts both had on them#like they baaaarely remember anything about that fifth year but those couple things they do have been impossible to shake#...i'm losing my train of thought. but they've definitely taken out their anger on a few christmas displays in the past#when they've gotten REALLY fed up with the inescapability of it all#all of this to say....... they hate this time of year and tend to be grumpier and more of a problem than usual until early january#ââ Ë â° â° headcanon âź danger in the fabric of this thing i made.
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every day i see people talking about things that I simply do not understand no matter how much I look into it and think about it and try to figure it out. i cannot tell if it's brainfog and fatigue or if I'm just ,,,, incapable of being intelligent enough for it all :[
#i sure do feel like a fucking idiot lately!#I wish I wasn't (weren't?) aware of how stupid i am but unfortunately i am acutely aware of it and I can't seem to do anything about it#like... why am i unable to comprehend things. why can't i figure it out if I go learn about it. why does it just not Click for me.#becoming increasingly aware of just how little i know and how naive i am and i have to say ... its frightening me fhfkdl#i feel like i am going to be fucking mauled if i say anything ever or if i try to participate in any conversations of worth#so I've just been staying quiet constantly. but then I just feel disconnected from everything and everyone#because i never participate! i just stand in the bg and listen and watch!!#but what's driving me crazy is i dont even seem to be learning in any significant way!! even though im just listening all the time!!#why can't i make any progress in understanding shit đ why is it all still just as out of reach as when i started !!#i really feel like there is something very wrong with my brain but idk what to do about it dhfjdkl#I've been isolating a lot more than usual the past couple months because i just feel so useless and stupid compared to everyone else#but then i talk to ppl irl and i feel like I'm operating on a higher level of social awareness than most ppl#which then makes me feel bad bc i worry im somehow thinking im better than other ppl but its not that fhdkdl#i just get tired of like... guiding the conversation for ppl and smoothing over social potholes#like im always the one driving the conversational vehicle. and if i stop driving then we crash. idk if this makes sense#but then online im always the one who is one step behind everyone else and making blunders#so ... I don't know what to do anymore fhfjdkl i think smth has gotten very broken in my brain and idk what it is or how to fix it#UHMM ANYWAYS. this is ... a rant and a half. oops.#im the worlds most average joe cool though đ nothing to worry about or see here! (<- sarcasm i think)#this is one of my worst vents of all time actually fbfjdkl this one is just a real stinker#just kind of incomprehensible and way too self-pitying methinks. oh well! I'll delete it if i think better of it later dbfjdkl#pippen needs 2nd breakfast
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Just remembered this one comment I had on AO3 (kinda forgot the fic) and now I can't stop imagining Elfilis as Elvis Presley.
#kirby#kirby memes#fecto elfilis#kirby elfilis#elfilis#elvis presley#elvis presely memes#kirby and the forgotten land#this is like by far the most i've ever gotten from elfilis's existence and to say it isn't close would be an understatement#they should have taken up being a rockstar instead of a ruthless monster and mediocre final boss#okay i'll stop the elf hot takes for a bit now#if i could draw for crap i'd totally draw elfilis doing elvis cosplay#maybe even replacing elvis with elfilis on the covers of those songs#btw those are still the only elvis songs i really know about#apart from blue christmas mainly because my mom likes singing it in intentionally off-key ways during the holidays#i guess i inherited more from her than i thought but that's a different story#i may send an ask to someone about this but i can't help but feel bad sending any asks to artists just 'cause my skills suck#oh yeah also i've never heard âjailhouse rockâ i just know about it but just move on with your life anyway#move on from imagining elfilis having a past as a rockstar before going psycho and becoming a murderous monster
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evening has come again huh
#đ.vent#i'm really sorry for the vents lately but i need a way to let it out. & this. this is as far as i can go with that#i need to do better again i know i can i have to :') people waiting for me. others n me....#last night i downloaded a game for my friend. for her. & then another friend i told her i'll reply before the day ends :< 'take your time'#she said but sob she opened up abt smth n i wna help i really do & fuck it just hurts too bcs i know the ppl around me are. struggling too#i try not to put others b4 myself if i'm struggling like rn but :< i hate the helplessness. wish i cld do smth more for you#i wish i could at least be enough to help them. for you for you whoever you are i would always be willing to make these sacrifices#i'm gna cry it's been so overwhelming lately bcs i'm filled with so much hope and despair simultaneously#what do i do? which do i choose? how do i decide? how am i supposed to do. enough. find a balance#n then other friends i haven't gotten to replying yet today bcs oh i'm too worn down right now n i hate it so much i'm sorry#& other than all the stuff i want to do for myself and for others there's also things like school n#it hurts you know? i'm very much aware i've been worrying my family lately. i can't. sleep properly. i can't bring myself to finish eating#:< n then it also gets overwhelming when i. look to better things. bcs it gen makes me v happy when. idk i feel inspired or creative or wtv#but it hurts when it's also simultaneously so overwhelming bcs it's so hard to do something with it#& thinking of good memories. how fleeting those moments were. how times have changed. but also of. of how more may come#but maybe. maybe only if i'm better. if i'm not this hollow husk of my usual self? fuck i know i'm too harsh on myself. unnecessary pressur#i'm more than it i know. but at times it's just so hard to feel better when i'm. đ„č i really really don't want to be a disappointment.#for others n. for myself.... bcs i know as always in the future. wtf the fuck happens then. i do know that parts of me will never change.#wnvr i look into my past i'll always know that i deserved being more kind to myself. bcs i'm human too.#this empty feeling of being stuck somewhere being hope n my despair hurts v much bcs it's so contradicting & overwhelming#n i wish in these moments i cld be enough for my future self. n for those around me#i wish i was better at communicating! tell everyone i know how much i appreciate them! how much i wish they'd stay in my life#i wish i cld really just say but i'm afraid that my honesty might scare you away. so instead i hide. you probably don't feel the same nyway#crying it hurts i think past experiences have made me too used to people leaving. but i can't be vulnerable enough to be#soft enough to the extent of being so honest. i've been hurt before when i was kind n younger n naive sure but oh so innocent#struggling sad n it was so bad then that i. oh i remember how it hurt.... i refuse to let myself go through that extent of loneliness again#i wish though that. i could. revive my mind. my motivation my inspo my creativity hasn't exactly dulled but it's become more passive#am i afraid that if i really be myself then i'll be alone again? if i'm weird if i'm too honest n soft n. i don't know.#it hurts feeling like i'm stuck with being too little n too much at the same time. how do i. just be. enough. for you. for me.#it hurts i'm crying i'm sorry i'm so sorry fuck i'm so overwhelmed n lost i don't want to think right now it feels so empty n i'm tired
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ăi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!
part one | part two
đ pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, youâre coming to realise, is that now that youâve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you canât stop thinking about it.
In the week following the night youâd spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like heâs carved a space for himself inside of you, something youâll never get back â not that you want it back in the first place.Â
Realistically, you know that the whole âloss of virginityâ thing doesnât have as much to do with how youâre feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghostâs massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.
The worst part is, you donât know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. Youâve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you donât even come close to coming again.
It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you donât know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.
The problem is that while you feel as though youâve been changed from the inside out, you donât think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, thereâs no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training.Â
All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.
Itâs harder than it sounds.
You find your whole body straining towards him when heâs close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You canât even look in Ghostâs direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.
And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. Heâs the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. Heâs still your lieutenant, but itâs like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. Heâs no longer just your untouchable superior, the man whoâs always so cold and distant behind that death mask â now heâs the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.
But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you.Â
You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though itâs never at the same time as when youâre looking at him. And maybe youâre imagining it, but it seems as though heâs gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. Itâs subtle, and you canât be sure that heâs actually touching you anymore than usual.
But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesnât make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz.Â
If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that heâll give you something.
Youâve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. Youâre slow, youâre clumsy, you mess up everything.Â
You donât think you can be blamed when youâre working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when heâs lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs.Â
You know itâs obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before youâre able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.
But if Ghost sees it â any of it â he gives no indication.Â
If you have to be honest with yourself, youâll admit that youâre disappointed. You had hoped thatâ well. Youâre not sure you can bear to admit what youâd hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldnât be content with just being your first, that maybe heâd want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.
You donât technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you wonât be missed in their ongoing training. Youâve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when youâre out there with them.Â
Thereâs just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. Youâd been vulnerable in front of him in a way youâd never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that youâd been okay with it being a one time thing, but you werenât exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.
So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesnât even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like youâre being rejected anew. ItâsâŠ. Itâs not ideal. But youâre a big girl, and youâve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.
Itâs fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. Heâs Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you.Â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise itâs not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.
Truthfully, it doesnât take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, youâve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so youâre dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.
To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago.Â
Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghostâs massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement.Â
Itâs galling to admit it, but you feel like youâre on fire. He doesnât say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move thatâs unexpectedly intimate.Â
You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that donât know him well, to you and the squad heâs always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghostâs eyes follow him until he gets back as though heâs expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that heâs gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.
So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesnât actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesnât mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghostâs side.
You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to â maybe itâs because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly.Â
Itâs a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety thatâs been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, youâre leaning against his side. He doesnât react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if heâs just tolerating it.
When Ghostâs eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you canât stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.
âSlow down.â He murmurs, setting the glass aside. âItâs still early.â
You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though youâre pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.
Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soapâs loud voice brings you back to yourself.
âLet the lass drink, LT.â He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadnât even noticed him leaving for the bar. âShe deserves to have fun tonight. Donât you, bonnie?â
ïżœïżœïżœSure.â You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. Youâre still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. âI deserve fun.â
It feels as though Ghostâs gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. Heâs so intense, youâre pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. Itâs the most heâs looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.
Heâs drinking too, though heâs foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that heâs barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.
You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like youâre on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghostâs muscular body pressed against your side.Â
Over the last week, youâve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.
Youâve heard men laughing about girls theyâve slept with whoâve become too clingy, whoâve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys arenât willing to give. Maybe itâs because youâre so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but youâre so determined to not be that person.Â
Ghost isnât exactly a big talker anyway, unless itâs the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so itâs not like youâve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you neednât have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you donât know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that heâd see you later.
So, you donât talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu youâre experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.
While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. Heâs already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention.Â
âYouâre staring at me.â You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.
Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement.Â
âYeah.â
He doesnât say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. Itâs like he thinks that he doesnât need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.
Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you canât focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, itâs hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation thatâs growing under your skin.Â
After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now heâs sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?
The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. Youâre not sure what to make of his attention â youâve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot thatâs gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.
âIâll get the next round.â You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.
Itâs too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly donât look at the half-full glasses in your squad matesâ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghostâs relentless stare.
You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.
God, this is just embarrassing. Youâre a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that youâd be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.
It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you canât help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself.Â
When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadnât expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.
Well, heâs not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but youâve never actually had any dealings with him and you canât think of a name⊠Daniels, maybe?
âHello there,â He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. âHow you doing?â
Itâs far from the first time youâve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. Youâve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life.Â
Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him.Â
Heâs sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.
âLet me get this next one for you,â He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. âWhatâre you having?â
âUh..â You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. âVodka soda.â
He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you donât shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.
When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder.Â
The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.
The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language.Â
You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. Youâre not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasnât spoken to you all week despite the fact that heâd nearly done your back in fucking you.
Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but thereâs no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you havenât been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. Youâre starting to wonder if maybe youâre not capable of coming without someone elseâs hands on you.
âIâve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,â Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. âBut itâs, uh⊠itâs a little difficult to catch you alone.â
You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and youâve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe.Â
âYeah, the guys can be a little protective.â You laugh a little weakly. âBut donât mind them.â
Even now, you can feel Ghostâs dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.
âMm,â Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. âCanât blame them, I suppose. Why donât you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.â
You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, youâve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a manâs interest in you now.
âOh, Iâm not sure.â You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. âI donât think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.â
Danielsïżœïżœ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though youâre stretching muscles youâre not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadnât done too much mingling outside of the squad; theyâve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.
âI think they get enough of your time,â He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. âCâmon, Iâll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?â
Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. Itâs lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. Youâre pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy.Â
If you canât get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldnât be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.
You glance down at Danielâs hands where theyâre wrapped around his beer glass. Theyâre big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you canât help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think theyâd do the job.
âWellââ You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.
But you donât get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.
For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isnât even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.
âOn your way, Sergeant.â Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.
Despite Ghostâs obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesnât immediately do as heâs told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what heâs hearing.
âWeâre only talking, Lieutenantââ
Ghost doesnât even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking â maybe you were going to be one of them.Â
But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else youâve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when heâs angry. Itâs like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying âDonât fuck with meâ. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.
And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesnât so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.
Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.
âWhat the hell was that?â You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.
Ghostâs head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes â bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.
âWhat was what?â He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that youâre facing him head on.
âYouâ I was justââ You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands.Â
Youâre indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadnât spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?
âMm.â Ghost grunts. âWhat were you doing?â
Your jaw clenches. âI was talking. Is that a crime now?â
Jesus, you sound like a brat. You donât even know where this insubordination is coming from; heâs your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. Youâre being too bold talking like this, but itâs like you just canât help yourself.
His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.
âWatch that mouth, doll.â He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone.Â
But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.
âYou canât ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when Iââ
He cuts you off as though heâs not even listening to you. âNot here. Come on.â
And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. Heâs not harsh, and he doesnât drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now.Â
Youâve pissed him off, and you donât want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.
You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now.Â
Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off â how mortifying. You pray they didnât catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but theyâre also terrible gossips.
âLet meâ Sir, let me goââ You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.
When you realise where heâs leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesnât stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that heâs leading you all the way back to your own damn room
âWhat are you doing?â You demand in a hiss. Youâre so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end.Â
After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like youâre a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar?Â
A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when heâs not in the field, but it doesnât make him any easier to read.
He doesnât answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.
Now that itâs the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. Heâs just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.
You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.
âYouâre unbelievable.â You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. âYouâve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, youâre over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?â And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, âSir.âÂ
Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. Thereâs something in his eyes that you donât know how to read, unable to get a feel for what heâs thinking through that inscrutable mask.
ââS not true.â He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests heâs frowning.
You feel like youâre going to explode. âYes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him offââ
Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadnât even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that heâs sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide.Â
âHis name is Davidson.â He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. âAnd that wasnât what I was talking about.â
Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didnât know the guyâs name â whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, youâre certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.
âI havenât been ignoring you.â He says, watching you like heâs trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. âJesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?â
Youâre left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.
Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him.Â
Despite the fact that this is your room, youâre stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.
âYouâve barely spoken to me since weââ You canât bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. âSince last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, thatâsâ thatâs fineââ
Ghostâs spine straightens, but he doesnât speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.
âI donât want to make things awkward, I justââ Youâre tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. âIâve never done this before, so Iâll follow your lead, but I donât understand the point of sending Danâ Davidson, whatever, away like that if youâre clearly trying to keep things between us professionalââ
Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like heâs suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.
âHeâs a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time weâre in there.â His voice is a low earnest rumble, but youâre too agitated to properly hear him. âHe didnât have anything to offer that youâd be interested in.â
âThatâs notââ
âBesides,â He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. âI think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.â
Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so heâs decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.
âRight.â You say. âYeah, thatâ um⊠thatâs made things awkward, I suppose.â A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, âSorry, LT.â
Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though heâs considering his next words carefully.
âCâmere.â He says.
You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, youâre suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries.Â
You had never slept with anyone before, and you donât understand whatâs expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that youâve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant?Â
âHavenât been ignoring you,â Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. âYou jokinâ? Been watching you all week. Thinkinâ about you all the time.â
Thatâs a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You canât deny that heâs been watching you â you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. ButâŠÂ
âYou neverââ You start to say, before swallowing again so you donât say something stupid. âYou havenât spoken to me.â
âSpoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.â
Thatâs a little galling, and all you can do is scowl.Â
âStop that. You know what I mean.â You snap defensively.Â
Maybe youâre imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when heâs trying to figure something out.
âI was trying to give you space, doll.â He murmurs. âIt was your firstâ I didnât want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.â
The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but youâre not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly youâre losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.
âI didnât want space.â You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. âYou justâ we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.â
You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?
And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasnât impressed with your⊠performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than youâve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadnât made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.
Thereâs a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesnât rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks.Â
âI go for a run in the mornings.â He says at last, his voice low and rumbly.Â
It takes you a moment to process that.Â
âYouâ what?â
Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. âThat morning, I⊠went for a run.â
He must realise how that sounds â maybe the expression on your face tips him off â because he hurries to add on to it. âCreature of habit, love. I didnâtâ I donât do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thoughtââ
He stops rather abruptly, and doesnât finish so you donât quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and youâre staring at him in agitated confusion. God, heâs bad at communicating.
âShould have stayed.â He says gruffly, and if youâre not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. âThought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.â He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. ââCause it was your first time. Dunno.â
Oh. Well.
Now youâre the one blinking at him. Thatâs⊠not what you had been expecting.Â
While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. Youâre not sure how to even begin processing that.
âI didnât need time to myself.â You say, and you sound pathetic.
Thereâs a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.
âNo,â He rumbles after a moment. âApparently you didnât.â
You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after itâs been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, heâs still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you.Â
âRight, wellââ You start to say, a little sharp.Â
He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. Heâs not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow heâs tugged you up into his lap.
âJesusââ You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.
Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. Heâs broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that youâre certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.
âLast week wasnât enough?â He asks, and if youâre not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking thereâs an undertone of hope, too.
But maybe thatâs a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. Heâs veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. Youâre pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you canât help yourself.
You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasnât enough.
âThen why bother with that idiot at the bar?â Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. âIf you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.â
You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadnât expected him to speak so bluntly, but itâs typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush.Â
âI wasnât sure youâd want to do that with me again.â You say, your voice edged with insecurity.Â
Thereâs a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. Itâs borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, heâs still so intense.
âWhat made you think that?â He asks, his voice low.
You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position youâre in. Youâre sitting perched in your lieutenantâs lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. Youâve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together.Â
âYouâre difficult to read.â You whisper awkwardly, shifting. Youâre hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know heâs strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.
But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.
âYou think so?â His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. âYou been trying to read me? Canât have been doinâ a very good job, darling, since youâve been avoiding me all fuckinâ week.â
Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he canât hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear.Â
âI justâ Didnât know if you would want me again.â You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.
Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.
âFeel that?â He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that youâve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.
âYeah.â You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.
You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.
âOh!â You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. âOh, god.â
âStill think I donât want you?â He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.
Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs.Â
âI donât know.â You say stupidly.Â
Itâs like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because youâre fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghostâs cock press into you.
He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately.Â
âYou think too much, doll.â He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like itâs a stress toy. âWay too fuckinâ much.â
Heâs probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.
Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.
âYeah,â Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. âThatâs it. Youâve been wanting this, haventâcha?â
âYeah.â You admit, so quietly that itâs almost inaudible. âYeah, I want it.â
But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot.Â
He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how youâd gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.
You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But youâre already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that heâs here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and youâre about to get what youâve been craving all week.
He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that youâve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesnât have any intention of letting you hide yourself.
He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. Youâre not sure what heâs doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you donât think thatâs whatâs happening here because heâs still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.
âDid she miss me?â He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.
âWhat?â You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.
But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that heâs talking about your fucking pussy.
âOh my god, you weirdoââ You choke out, but you donât get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt.Â
He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that itâs been revealed. Itâs embarrassing, but you canât bring yourself to try and hide again. Heâs touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that youâre not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.
âMy fussy girl,â He mutters, low enough that you almost donât hear him. âHave you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?â
You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they havenât been working. No matter what you do, you canât replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.
But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought thatâs been practically haunting you, thatâs had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as youâd sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.
âWaitââ You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. Itâs like heâs just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.
âI want to try something.â You tell him before you can lose your nerve. âSit back down.â
He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than youâd expect for his size if you hadnât already seen him in action. Heâs almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.
Since youâre already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine.Â
âPromising start.â He says, and you want to smack him.
You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. Youâve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now heâs sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesnât seem put off by your inexperience at all.
Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. Itâs somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like youâve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant.Â
âVery promising start.â He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. âDâyou know what youâre doing, sweetheart?â
The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what youâre doing, youâre learning as you go along. But Ghost hasnât judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that heâs willing to put up with this too.
âSort of.â You say evasively. âIâve seen it in porn, and Iâve⊠Iâve been practicing.â
Ghostâs groan sounds like itâs been punched out of him, and itâs rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where youâre trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and itâs slow-going.
âYeah?â He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. âWhich one?â âWhat?â Youâre a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. Youâve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.
âWhich one of your toysâve you been practicing on?â He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. âThe pretty little pink one?â
You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. Youâre not quite sure what to make of the fact that youâre apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo youâve been sucking at, imagining it was him.
âMaybe.â You mutter evasively.
Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, youâve felt it, and yet now that itâs in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.
Youâve watched porn with so-called âmonster cocksâ and it isnât like that. Itâs just⊠bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because itâs not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.
Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.
âYou donât have to.â He says quietly.
âI want to.â You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves.Â
Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that youâre in over your head. But youâre not willing to back down; not when youâve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when youâve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.
You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghostâs thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. Heâs so big that it feels like heâs dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what youâre doing.
You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that youâre getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.
âGrip it harder, love.â He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. âIt ainât gonna break.â
âShh,â You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. âLet me do it myself.â
Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You canât help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because theyâre your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown.Â
Itâs not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock.Â
You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you neednât have been. Heâs a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.
He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.
âThought you wanted to do it yourself?â
Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesnât mind.
You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and youâre coughing, choking, and sputtering.Â
You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.
âSlow down,â He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. âYou in a rush?â
âNo.â You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. âI just⊠I donât know what Iâm doing.â
Even though youâre quite certain that Ghost already knows that, itâs a little humiliating to admit.
Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit thatâs trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.
âDonât matter, love.â He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that heâs wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. âPlay with it as much as you want to. Donât think too much.â
You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted â the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.
You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.
âYeah, thatâs it.â He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.
His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke â the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.
You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesnât seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.
It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. Youâre rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.
Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isnât nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.
It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when youâre on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.
You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.
You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what youâd do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything youâve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. Youâre making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and youâre certain that youâre drooling.
Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.
âFuck,â He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, âKnew youâd be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckinâ gorgeous.â
That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. Youâre not sure what feels better; whether itâs his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises heâs growling.
God, you want to be good at this. Youâre definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost.Â
Youâre pretty sure heâs lying about you looking gorgeous, though. Youâve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, youâre gripping onto Ghostâs thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and itâs taking everything you have not to choke on him again.
Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. Youâre making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way thatâs definitely a little gross, but youâre surprised by just how much youâre enjoying this.Â
You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy.Â
You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldnât be cute but it is.
The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. Youâre fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.
You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch.Â
Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. Itâs jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though itâs just waiting for your attention once more. Itâs already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.
âLike a pro, baby.â Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture thatâs gathered there.Â
You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. Itâs nice to know that youâre not doing a horrific job, at least.
You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghostâs eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. Heâs watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. Itâs too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.
An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once itâs been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you donât understand why heâs taken it away from you.
Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.
You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.
âNo,â You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. âI wanted you to come on my faceââ
You can tell that Ghostâs expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesnât put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, heâd hardly gotten undressed at all. But now youâre being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button.Â
âNext time.â He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. âFuck, love, next time.â
Heâs quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before heâs muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like itâs a hard candy.
You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and heâs so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You donât even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes arenât lined up with the holes anymore, but heâs working with such enthusiasm that it doesnât even matter.
And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation heâs providing is really doing it for you.Â
Youâre probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way youâre craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. Heâs built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing youâve ever seen in your life.
âOh god, fuckâ!â You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.
Of course, Ghostâs fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe itâs because youâre used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when youâre playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghostâs pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.
He pushes another finger inside and itâs snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.
Youâre honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves.Â
Itâs exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.
Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when youâve been failing so spectacularly for a week.
Youâve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point heâs shucked his trousers off, and the fact that heâs naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. Heâs still got the damn mask on.
Heâs breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. Heâs still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. Heâs still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what heâs thinking.
When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. Youâre sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.
Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.
He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and heâs quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.
âOh, look at her,â He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. âShite, she missed me, didnât she?â
His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesnât even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.
âFuck, sheâs been waitinâ for me all week,â He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. âI know, baby, been waitinâ for you too.â
Jesus, you feel like youâre gonna die. Youâre taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. Youâre so wet it feels like youâve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.
Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.
âYeah, sheâs begginâ for me.â Ghost is still talking â at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because theyâre low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. âListen; itâs like sheâs talking to me.â
For a second, you have no goddamn idea what heâs talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.
âOh god,â You whine, high and needy. âJustâ stop teasing.â
The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.
âItâs not teasing, lovie.â He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. âYouâve been avoiding me for a week straight. Iâm just reacquainting myself.â
Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that youâre tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response.Â
âSimon,â You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you donât even get as far as finishing the order.
He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it youâve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.
When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. Youâre wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghostâs dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You canât stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.
He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, âCâmon, stop pushing me out, darling.â
âWait,â You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. âWait, oh my god, youâre too bigââ
His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though heâs obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.
âItâs only the tip, baby.â He murmurs, cooing softly to you like youâre something easily spooked. âYouâve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.â
You nod, hesitantly. Heâs right; he may be big, but youâd taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since youâd long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.
Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. Itâs mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?
You slap at his belly hard, writhing away.Â
âNo, nope, not gonna fit.â You wheeze.
Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. Itâs still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick.Â
Itâs big, but you know you can take it. You just⊠you need better leverage.
Your jaw clenches in determination. âI need to be on top.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghostâs brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that heâs laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.
His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you â the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.
âGo on.â He encourages, as hungry and wanting as youâve ever heard him. âAll yours, gorgeous.â
All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until youâre certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.
You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.
You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghostâs cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as youâre speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.
Though youâre the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.
You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that theyâve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if heâs trying to take it all in before it disappears.
His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesnât, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.
You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesnât rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.
Youâre so full you feel like youâre about to break in half, and Ghostâs gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you donât stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.
Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside.Â
âThatâs my girl.â Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. âFuck, itâs like you were made for me.â
Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system â youâve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.
One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.
âWould you have gone back to his quarters?â He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.
âHuh?â You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.
âThe guy at the bar.â Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. âThe one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?â
Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that heâd be a big possessive bastard.
âI donât know.â You say, but youâre barely paying attention. Youâve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind â you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.
âWaste of your time.â He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. âJesus, look at the way youâre sucking me in. Cuntâs so fussy, she was just waiting for me.â
The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasnât the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldnât fall over that damn ledge.
âYeah,â You whine, hardly even aware of what youâre agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but thereâs nowhere else to go because heâs filling you up so completely.Â
You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, heâs so strong, itâs like your body weight is nothing to him â he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.
Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then youâve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.Â
âSimon,â You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper thatâs far more pathetic than you had intended. âAm Iâ am I doing good?â
Heâs gritting his teeth â you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.
âLike I said, lovie, youâre a natural.â He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. âGimme a kiss.â
When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.
âThere.â You moan into Ghostâs mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each otherâs lips. âOh god, pleaseââ
The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden heâs fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.
Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, heâs drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.
Your mouth is hanging open and youâre pretty sure that youâre drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You donât understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.
âFuckinâ Christ, youâre so tight,â Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. âGonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.â
You didnât actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.
Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and youâre gone. You think you might actually scream, but itâs muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs.Â
You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it.Â
You donât get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all heâs worth. Youâre put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.
It's the most unravelled youâve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know youâre already addicted.
This is not the lazy rhythm of before; heâs uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that youâre sure itâs going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe thatâs what heâs aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.
Youâre oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you donât complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghostâs own soft belly too.
It makes a mess, but you donât care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed.Â
You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You donât bother opening your eyes; you know heâll come back.
Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that heâs pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery.Â
âYou alright, love?â He asks, and you realise that youâve just been staring blankly at him.
âYeah.â You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that youâve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but donât complain.
To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. Heâs a little too big for the standard issue frame, but youâre more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.
âAre you staying, this time?â You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you canât quite help the little pulse of insecurity.
âAs long as youâll have me.â He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like heâs talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.
You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. Heâs so solid, reliable. Youâd trust him with your life, with anything.Â
You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. Itâs laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when itâs flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You canât lie to yourself and say you donât feel a little possessive, either.
âAre we dating now?â You ask quietly. Youâre not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You donât think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.
Thereâs a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns heâd been drawing on your back.
âWas that a question for me, or my cock?â He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though heâs actually not sure.
You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when theyâre looking at you like this.
âYou,â You say.
Thereâs another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.
âYeah,â Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. âStuck with me now, lovie.â
#okayyyy here we go!#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod smut
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By far the most effective psyop that the 4chan/adjacent websites' misery stew inflicts on its users is the idea that they're just hated for having problems, rather than the reality which is that they are having those problems exploited to radicalize them into insular hate communities that want them to alienate anyone not in the community, and that they are being manipulated into alienating everyone who could support them.
So much of the criticism I've gotten for the orangecel desaturatoid comic on twitter boils down to "you simply do not understand that my way of coping with dysphoria by going to the dysphoria worsening website and stewing in misery is necessary, because your dysphoria is simply lesser. Stop invalidating my dysphoria, which is more real than yours, and demands that I do this."
This illustrates a fundamental part of how these communities operate: Anyone who criticizes the way they operate must simply be the Other that they build up in their minds. It's all reflexive ways to dismiss outsiders. Chad/passoids/normies simply do not understand. Nobody in the out-group has any familiarity with how it feels, nobody has ever gotten out, nobody is telling you that this is bad for you from experience.
It's absolutely baffling watching these barely even adults say that I, someone who transitioned in my mid-20s, can't possibly understand what dysphoria is like. I was so uncomfortable being perceived at all as a teenager that I simply did not go outside. I lived in MMOs. Until I learned that voice training was possible I was so hopeless about even trying transition that I didn't dare to consider the option.
I would stay up hours past midnight in meaningless fucking arguments on 4chan that served no other purpose than to make me miserable. I fucking know how you feel because I was you, and I am telling you, get the fuck out of there.
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HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3đ!
thank you so much!𫶠im glad youâve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
simon didnât turn to watch you leave the gym.
he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.
he didnât blame you for your angerâ he couldnât. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.
but he couldnât take everything lying down.
did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yesâ and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldnât you understand?
heâd never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.
he had been burned and broken too many times. heâd seen the people he loved murdered because of him.
he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.
but there were some youâd never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadnât. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldnât give freely. he told himself it was because he couldnât stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.
but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happenedâ and thatâs what got him here.
simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.
and when someone you trust so deeply, someone youâve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?
you canât help but believe them. and thatâs what simon did.
the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.
and all the signs pointed to you.
and although he didnât want to, simon couldnât help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.
price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.
johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if youâd leaked information.
then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldnât be so bad.
simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what youâd said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.
maybe it was pride. simon wasnât trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadnât seen it sooner; angry heâd let you in at all.
but maybe it was hurt. hurt that youâd done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything theyâd been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simonâs bed and whispering you loved him.
all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.
and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasnât proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldnât see his side of thingsâ not like he could see yours.
so, he was an ass. he didnât apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.
and he told you that heâd spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadnât done worse.
even if heâd smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and thatâs why some part of him held back.
he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.
but he couldnât stand the fact that you couldnât understand why heâd done what he did.
the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.
it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.
the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.
âthis is a bloody mess,â the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.
âdoc came and saw me earlier, âfore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.â
simon didnât speak. priceâs eyes met his, and he sighed again.
âfuckinâ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.â
âdoesnât matter what I say,â simon spoke, eyes still on the captain âthey wonât fuckinâ listen.â
price shook his head. âthatâs not true, ând we both know it,â he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.
âspoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said sheâll try to speed up the transfer process. tryinâ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightinâ it any longer.â
âtheyâre part of our team,â simon spoke, tone rough.
price shook his head. âthey are, but I canât keep doinâ this. canât keep pushinâ off transferinâ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.â
the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.
he didnât have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.
âlaswell say anythinâ else about thaâ transfer?â simon asked.
price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. ânot much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt sheâd tell us. for their sake.â
simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.
âshe did say she didnât know if it would go through. theyâd have to pass another eval.â
they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didnât believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldnât outwardly say it, but price had known what sheâd meant.
pushing the transfer through wouldnât matter if you couldnât pass a physical and psychological evaluationâ and laswell didnât think you could.
although he wouldnât admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.
but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.
an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.
you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.
damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything youâd done for both of them during your service.
you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldnât make that any clearer.
he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before youâd left.
âyou should have killed me.â
maybe he should have.
thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didnât see my post about itâ
im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!
as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simonâs head!)
#cod mw2 fic#captain john price#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#ghost call of duty#captain price#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#johnny mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#John price#simon riley x gn reader#simon riley angst#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost cod#141!reader#141 x reader#task force 141
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